


Lucretia Alone

by haunteddollwatch



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Study, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Gen, Grief/Mourning, It's in the title, Rating May Change, cycle 65, i mean it's the judges year so they're all dead except for lucretia, not anything unlike the normal death in the stolen century, rated teen and up for swearing, the judge's world, when lucretia became madame director
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 11:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunteddollwatch/pseuds/haunteddollwatch
Summary: It happened so fast. It started with a flash of light. Then: Magnus, Lup, Taako, Merle, Barry, even the captain, Davenport... they were all gone, and Lucretia was alone.This is the story of Lucretia's year alone. This is the story of how the lonely journal keeper Lucretia, became Madame Director.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Journal Entry: 5,872 _

_ We have entered cycle 65. I ask this every time a year passes but: how much longer can we persevere? The Hunger grows ever stronger as we speak, and I fear that soon we will be unable to escape it. Before the start of our journey, I had always wondered how it must feel to be a mouse, weak, a mere piece of prey. Us humanoid creatures were not meant to be hunted back at home; we were not innate predators, but still the top of the food chain. I now know how the mouse feels. We are scraping by each year at smaller and smaller margins. I am afraid that soon we will not be capable of escaping. _

 

Magnus’ gruff voice broke through Lucretia’s concentration, “This place looks incredibly boring!”

Her head swiveled upwards in amusement, glancing over at the source of her loud friend’s exclamation. Lucretia was separated from the crew by a thin wall, but through an open door she could see that they were peering out the long window of the deck, down at yet another new landscape. 

Lucretia pushed herself upwards on the bed from her laying down position with a huff of air. She delicately moved the white curtain from blocking her view of the world below, and looked curiously out the small oval window that hung next to the bed. 

Without needing to look at the paper, Lucretia resumed writing.

 

_ The world of cycle 65, indeed, in the words of Magnus Burnsides, can be described as “incredibly boring”. To some that is. In my eyes, I see a world that is _

 

She hesitated, struggling to find a word that properly described the vast grayness below.

 

_ I see a world that is cruel. There is nothing here that can be described as beautiful, or new, or worth exploration. The only color to be seen is a harsh gray, almost as if the surface of this planet has been coated in a sheet of ash. I believe that this is simply rock. There is no source of water, or green, or any “livable” environmental features. The only visible civilization consists of flimsy tents; they surround pillars of smoke that rise into the atmosphere from crude bonfires. How do creatures survive in such harsh conditions? How will we adapt to this environment? _

 

Lucretia squinted. A white smudge of seemingly tall structures began to emerge along the horizon. As the ship flew gradually closer, she began to write.

 

_ It seems that the civilizations here are not only ramshackle tents or dilapidated bonfires. A stoic, white marble city rises from an extensive, clean, blue lake. This is the first source of water I have seen so far on this world. And the first source of green it seems. Specks of color show itself in what seems to be a massive garden. This is a bustling city. How did it come to be that this land is so different from everything else I have seen within the same world?  _

_ Now this is bizarre: In the exact center of this… utopian city, there is a towering circle of a stone wall. I am not quite sure, but there seems to be… humanoid figures standing within these walls. Statues. There are four of them, massive, imposing. Now, I’m not completely sure, but it appears that they are looking towards us. It may be an illusion, like paintings in which the eyes appear to be- _

 

Suddenly, the ship jolted. A flash of white light exploded through Lucretia’s field of vision as she was thrown off of the bed and onto the cold floor. Her awareness of her body seemed to dissipate as she attempted to clutch her ears while a deafening clap of thunder rattled her brain. A vague thought passes through her mind that perhaps the ship had been shot down, but Lucretia simply brought her head between her knees as heat pricked her skin in painful waves. Light danced on the back of her eyelids whilst a screeching ringing echoed in her ears. 

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Davenport was capable. Davenport was skillful enough to keep the Starblaster afloat.

But the ship didn’t steady.

It’s okay. Davenport knows what to do. He’s the captain.

They were still falling.

Davenport knows what to do. He’s the captain. 

The Starblaster fell only quicker, and Lucretia felt herself lift off the floor.

Something was wrong.

Lucretia’s eyes snapped open, and momentarily, light blinded her vision. She blinked until she could see through the red, and see out the door, and see that- There was no one on the deck. There was no one on the deck? They were all gone. And that meant that Davenport was gone too. And that meant that there was no one manning the ship.

There was no one manning the ship.

She was free falling, faster and faster and faster. 

She was going to die.

That was okay. She would wake up next cycle and- no. No she wouldn’t. They were all gone. Is this it?

No. No. She had to do something. 

It was as if Lucretia was watching herself move from outside her body. She felt herself jump up. She felt herself stumble hurriedly onto the deck and clasp the wheel of the Starblaster with shaking hands. The nose of the ship had begun to point straight towards the surface of the world, which approached at a terrifying speed. Lucretia tightened her grip on the wheel, sucked in a breath, and pulled up. There was a ragged jolt as the Starblaster abruptly tilted upwards; Lucretia knew how to fly, but she was in no way an expert, and the ship was damaged; there was a chance that she wouldn’t be able to maneuver the ship safely. 

Her arms shook violently, as she turned the wheel sharply, attempting to steady the ship, but instead, another loud crash shook the ship. Another hit. It barely registered that a pulsing siren had begun to ring as red lights flashed intermediately; she had to get away.  Out of the corner of her eye, Lucretia could see two small ships approaching the flanks of the Starblaster, and approaching fast. She had to leave the city. She had to get away. She had to get away.

So she gripped the accelerator tightly, and pulled as hard as she physically could. 

The skin on her face was tightened, pulled back as the ship clumsily blasted forward, towards the unknown. 

One thought passed through Lucretia’s mind as the white marble city dissipated behind her.

She was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucretia lands in this strange new world. She's got a lot of shit she needs to figure out.

It had been hours now, and Lucretia’s heartbeat, present in her ears, hadn’t yet slowed down. She had begun to feel more attached to her body at this point, which was helpful, but also, literally, a pain. The crisis sirens on the Starblaster had begun to grate on her ears hours before, and now a pulsing headache enveloped her brain, fogging her vision. She had finally noticed the hotness of blood dripping down her temple. Her shaking hand reached towards her head to feel the source of the wound. She trembled as she gently prodded a spot of her hair that had grown sticky with thick blood. It was nothing serious, but based upon the fact that she had not yet regained total steadiness, she had almost definitely obtained a minor concussion. The panic that encompassed her being just a few hours before had dissipated into numbness and the vague idea that she was perhaps in a state of shock. 

The landscape below had gradually transformed from flat rock into jagged mountains, much larger than those on the homeworld. It seemed as though this particular planet was somewhat larger than average, which was useful in the ever present case of Lucretia needing to hide away. She had lost the smaller ships, but she still did not feel safe. The workings of this world were so foreign and imposing; it was impossible to know if they -whoever “they” were- could still see her. 

Landing, in this treacherous landscape, would be, to put it bluntly, a bitch of a task. But it needed to be done. The Starblaster had taken quite a heavy hit; Lucretia wasn’t sure of how much longer the ship could stay flying. There wasn’t much cover, but the mountains would perhaps serve to block view of the ship for at least a bit. Maybe there were people below? It was doubtful. 

Lucretia sucked in a breath as she slowly spiraled closer and closer towards the surface. There were no plants. There was no visible water. She wasn’t sure how she’d keep herself vital in such an environment, but that wasn’t her greatest concern yet. She first needed to repair the ship. Lucretia’s eyes widened in exasperation as she realized that she had to  _ figure out _ how to repair the ship. 

She shakily maneuvered the Starblaster towards a small enough crevice to stay hidden, but large enough so that she could land safely. Dust erupted from the rocky ground as the ship lowered itself clumsily onto the surface. Lucretia cringed as it gruffly landed onto the rocky surface with a clatter, but simultaneously let out a sigh of relief. She was safe? For now at least.

Lucretia pried her hands from the wheel. They shook, unyieldingly gripping at nothing. Shock, she supposed. She’d have to work through that… somehow. 

The crisis alarm had finally stopped, now that the ship had landed on solid ground, but its wails still echoed in Lucretia’s head. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her body, prompting her to clutch the rails near the window of the ship. Oh how she so wanted to lay down and sleep; her legs shook with exhaustion and the fogginess in her brain had amplified to the point of disorientation. Now was not the right time to rest. Perhaps never would be the right time to rest. In any case, rest would not be this moment’s focus.

Lucretia cautiously climbed out of the Starblaster onto hard ground, into air that was surprisingly hot. It made sense, considering that water was seemingly scarce. Once she steadied herself on the jagged rock, Lucretia set off to the side of the ship that had been hit. What she saw was worse than she could have hoped. In retrospect, it was foolish of her to assume that the damage wouldn’t be too bad if the flashing lights and sirens had been any indication of such. 

The Starblaster was… well. It was wrecked. The flank of the ship was completely ripped apart. Chunks of metal hung off of it by threads of wiring. The metallic silver material was somehow singed, as if it was cloth. It occured to Lucretia that she had no way of knowing what the weapons of this world consisted of. She had no way of knowing what exactly had been done to the ship. 

“Shhit,” Lucretia wimpered as she slapped her hands onto her knees, knitting her brows as she stared in horror at the destruction that had been applied to the Starblaster. 

There had to be blueprints somewhere in the ship, right? In the engine room? Even so, she had no idea how to read them, and with her brain scrambled like this, she wasn’t sure if she could easily read anything at all. 

Straightening herself upwards as well as she could, wiping a thick bead of sweat from her brow, Lucretia stumbled back towards the entrance of the ship. She could feel the panic building in her chest. She needed to be sheltered. Being in the broken down ship was safer than being somewhat exposed, on solid ground. 

It was cooler in the Starblaster, but she could feel the cool air slowly squeezing itself out of the ship through cracks in the wall. The air conditioning had most likely been damaged. The air conditioning… something about the idea of this structure being damaged sent a jolt of concern through her chest. Lucretia slapped her hand onto her forehead in exasperation. Formulating even one coherent thought was a struggle. Nothing was going to get done before this pesky concussion went away. She shivered in apprehension; some concussions went away within a week while others, well, they could last for years. She would have to find a healer. 

“No…”  Lucretia muttered to herself. From above, no civilization could be spotted anywhere in the mountains she landed in.

Then, she would have to figure out to heal herself. Or Merle- Lucretia’s eyes widened. Merle was gone. Merle and his calloused hands, gentle as he pressed them against each crewmember’s wounds. Merle and his plants, those cringeworthy sweet nothings he would whisper to them… She clutched the fabric of the neck of her tee-shirt. She couldn’t think about this right now. She had to figure out how to fix this ship. She had to figure out what mechanical technicalities had emerged with the damage the ship took. If the bond engine was damaged then-

The bond engine. 

_ That’s _ what had striked concern in her mind. The air conditioning was situated quite near the bond engine. If that was damaged… it was likely that the bond engine was also.

As fast as she could, without falling down, Lucretia stumbled towards the engine room, climbed down into its chambers, and scrambled towards the engine. 

Just as she had suspected. The bond engine was smoking. It was dented, broken, wires stuck out. 

“No! No no no no no!” Lucretia clambered over to the hunk of metal.

She prodded it softly, only to pull away quickly with a hiss of pain. The engine was  _ burning _ . It must have overworked itself as she kept the ship flying even while it was severely damaged. 

“Shit,” She sputtered as a knot began to form in her throat, “shit. Shit shit shit fuck shit no shit fuck! This is bullshit!”

Blueprints. There had to be blueprints somewhere. Lucretia whipped her head around in search of some place that these said blueprints could be hiding, only to clutch her skull in pain. That was stupid. It felt as though she had thrown her brain into the walls of her skull. Like her brain had become organ puddy. Stars danced before Lucretia’s eyes as she yelped, “fuck!”

She blinked the dots from her eyes. There were file cabinets lining one of the walls, cluttered. Some drawers had fallen out of their sockets, presumably due to the roughness of being hit by fucking alien lasers. Lucretia clambered towards the mess of papers and cabinets; there had to be some form of instructions here. Sure enough, peeking out from one of the displaced drawers were blue sheets of paper. 

Lucretia desperately pulled one out from the pile. This one was for… she squinted, trying to decipher the words etched on the paper. The letters swirled around in her head, until finally she read, “Accelerator”. No. That wasn’t right. 

Raiding the endless stash of blueprints took longer than it should had, as Lucretia could barely read anything without her brain cramping up. Finally, she pulled out a sheet that had etched over the top: “Bond Engine”. Lucretia laughed stupidly. Finally. 

She slumped back against another file cabinet as she held the fairly large sheet of paper out in front of her. Her smile quickly faded as she attempted to make sense of the mess of lines and sketches and labels that the blueprint consisted of. She squinted as she bit her lip, staring intently at the directions, but the lines simply danced in front of her, swirling until a wave of nausea hit her. Her arms fell to her sides, crumpling the page in the process. This would be harder than normal. Maybe she just needed to rest. Maybe she just needed to close her eyes. There was no way she would be able to interpret these papers in the state she was in.

Suddenly, Lucretia found herself surrounded by dark, what appeared to be sandstone walls. She was kneeling, her hands limply hanging by her sides. Strangely, she felt… weak… powerless, as if all the magic inside her had been sucked away from her by this odd clearing. The stone dias on which she was kneeling was located in the exact core of this clearing. It was smooth, but hard, and her knees ached against it. Off to the side, there were a couple of humanoid shaped statues, all the same material, all extremely intricately sculpted, so much so that they looked lifelike. 

Lucretia strode curiously towards the largest of the, she counted, six, but froze after only a few strides. The statue looked frighteningly familiar. Its face was contorted in what looked like an expression of pure determination, of pure anger, such a familiar expression. The figure was strikingly muscular, with a flowing jacket tied around its neck. Lucretia reached out, and ran her fingers over the petrified sideburns of Magnus Burnsides, stone, frozen, dead. She whipped around and ran to the next one, sure enough, the two slim elven figures, depicted the horrified expression of Taako, as he clung to the arm of his sister, Lup, who’s face was contorted in a strange mixture of horror and anger. Dead. She stumbled over to the stout figure of… of Merle Highchurch, flowers still laced into his beard, his eyes wide in confusion. Dead.

Barry Bluejeans. His tee-shirt tucked into jeans, no longer blue. Dead.

And lastly, the smallest figure. A mustached gnome, his face stoic, his eyes closed. Captain Davenport. Their leader. Dead.

Lucretia took in a harsh breath. This was her crew. Subject to a horrible fate, turned into crude stone. Her chest rose and fell quickly as hot tears exited her wide eyes. She clutched her thick, curly hair, pulling it until she felt strain against her scalp. For some reason, the spot of sticky blood had gone. For some reason, she felt as though she was being watched, as though eyes bore into her back, into her head, from above.

Her body tensed, and she was unable to move, except for her head, which she raised slowly up, up to look above her. Suddenly, dread raked through her entire being as her gaze bore into the sight of what lay above. 

It was a familiar sight.

The four humanoid statues she had seen in the center of the white, marble city leaned grotesquely down from their post. Their heads pressed together, their arms linked, as they glared, expressionless, at Lucretia. It was as if they could see  _ into _ her. As if they were sorting through Lucretia’s every memory, every thought, every piece of information she had ever held in her brain.

And they were judging her.

Lucretia’s eyes opened with a start as her body jolted against the hot metal of the file cabinets behind her. Her head felt foggy once more. Her hair was sticky with dried blood again. And her body shook in fear, in panic, as tears streamed down her face without restraint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr!!! http://amethyst-grape.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journal Entry 5,876-5,884

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written mirroring a lot of my recent feelings of grief. There are themes of death and loss.

_ Journal Entry: 5,876 _

_ Year 65, day 3 _

_ Dear Taako, _

_ I’ve been thinking about you in particular. I’m hungry. The rations of jerky and canned beans don’t nearly live up to the culinary experiments you dealt every new cycle. I think it’s the head injury but I don’t really have an appetite at all. Maybe if you made something I’d eat.  _

_ I’ve always been fine with being alone. I’m glad it’s me and not you. You’d be swearing and suffering terribly by now. It is weird though, the absence of the crew here. My family. I’m starting to understand why you hate being alone so much. _

_ It’s only been three days.  _

_ You were always so cruel to those around you; so unafraid to poke fun at every little thing. When I first encountered you, you and your aloof nature, your nonchalant air of just… uncaringness, I was not to fond of you. Actually, I was scared. Of Lup too. Of everyone. But that’s not who this is about. I was shy, and it was especially hard to get comfortable around someone who was so confident with himself.  _

_ You’d hate this Taako, but I can now see your true nature after oh so many years of growing closer. That aloofness is a facade. You do care. I know you do. And you love so so so much. I love that about you. It’s always fun for me to observe your absolute determination to stay uncaring, because you always fail. _

_ I love you so much. _

_ I miss you. _

 

* * *

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,877 _

_ Year 65, day 3 _

_ Night and day are longer on this planet. It’s night now. There’s no moon. It’s too dark. I’m tired, but I don’t want to sleep; I haven’t measured the length of the nights here, not that it matters. Time is different everywhere. My year will be 365 days long, but theirs may not be. 365 days here is longer than I will be here, that is, if I can even last to that extent. _

_ It may be paranoia, but I feel like I’m being watched. They’re going to find me soon, I just know it. I have to move quicker.  _

 

* * *

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,878 _

_ Year 65, day 4 _

_ Barry, _

_ I need your help. These blueprints are frankly the worst thing I have ever experienced in my ever so long life. PLEASE. I am gay and I am desperate.  _

_ It’s not like this damn concussion is helping in any way. I can’t read without getting a screaming headache, and figuring out math is probably one thousand times harder. You would know what to do. You, Barry Bluejeans, as awkward as you are, are one of the best, smartest people I know. I miss talking to you. You were the other listener on the Starblaster. Were. I’m still getting used to using verbs in the past tense.  _

_ Going into your room is the hardest thing. Don’t be mad, I needed to research on engineering. I feel as though, as a family, we are so past personal boundaries after 65 years, so I went through your stuff.  I’m so sorry Barry I just miss you. _

_ I probably shouldn’t have done that, for emotional purposes. I opened up your closet, identical to that of every other dorm on this ship, to feast my eyes upon rows of denim and white tee-shirts. Your blue jeans (those stupid pants you always wear!) made me cry- in amusement at first, but it soon transformed into just… sadness, perhaps. Never in my life did I think I would cry over a pair of blue jeans, yet, today I found myself sitting on the floor and sobbing into a pair of my friend’s pants. They smelled like you. _

_ I miss your smile. _

_ I miss the way you push your glasses up onto your face when you’re in deep thought. _

_ I miss your warm, squishy hugs.  _

_ I love you. _

 

* * *

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,879 _

_ Year 65, day 4 _

 

  * __Wash the cylinder block, crankshaft and rods with soapy water.__


  * _Paint the outside of the cylinder block with a high-temp paint._


  * _Align-boring the cylinder block mains._


  * _Torque the main cap bolts incrementally in the proper sequence using a professional-quality torque wrench._


  * _Install the main bearing in the cylinder block dry._


  * _Carefully set the crankshaft into place making sure not to damage the main bearings._


  * _To properly phase the camshaft with the crankshaft, align the timing chain gears so that the two small dots are next to each other._


  * _With a hydraulic camshaft, tighten the rocker arm nut until zero lash, and then tighten the nut one additional turn._


  * _Install a dial indicator into the lifter bore (this dial indicator is held snugly in the lifter bore by O-rings mounted on the indicator shaft.)_


  * _To degree a camshaft, start by using a dial indicator (arrow A) to determine when the No. 1 piston is at Top Dead Center (TDC). Then, install the degree wheel (arrow B) on to the end of the crankshaft. Install the cam degree pointer (arrow C) so that it aligns with the zero mark on the degree wheel._


  * _Always buy high-performance gaskets from a reputable manufacturer._


  * _To ensure that the pickup remains securely attached to (and in proper phase with) the oil pump, tack-weld the two together._


  * _The first 10 minutes of an engine break-in are the most important. Keep engine rpm between 2000-2500 rpm, and continually monitor engine conditions (such as fuel and oil pressure along with spark timing)._


  * _Balancing the engine parts that make up the rotating assembly is highly recommended._



 

* * *

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,880 _

_ Year 65, day 5 _

 

_ Screaming into the void can be helpful. _

 

* * *

 

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,881 _

_ Year 65, day 7 _

_ Lup, _

_ I’m a mess. I need you right now. I need you to be yelling at me, I need you to be my cheer squad. You’d be making fun of me at this point. Who would have thought? Lucretia, shy little Lucy, dirtying her hands with oil and grease and whatever it is that machines are made of. I’m stupid. I’m so stupid. 65 years and I didn’t bother to learn how to fix the damn bond engine. Of course, I read about engineering, about machines and what not, but there’s only so much I can remember.  _

_ Why aren’t you here? Please, Lup, yell at me, push me forward. I’m so tired and I feel like giving up. I’ve already given up haven’t I? I’m writing in this stupid journal again aren’t I? You would have kept me company, I know it. I’m so alone Lup. _

_ I miss you so fucking much.  _

 

_ I need to get back to work. _

 

* * *

 

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,881 _

_ Year 65, day 7 _

_ I fell asleep too soon, and now I’m up in the middle of this long, long, night. I think the concussion is getting better. I’m less dizzy and the headaches are getting less and less painful. The only thing is that I sleep long hours. I’ve slept too much and worked too little. _

_ Everybody deserves a break though. I am not sure if this is quite the adequate situation, but any excuse is good enough for me in my exhaustion.  _

_ My surroundings feel safe. I don’t think I’m safe. I feel like there are eyes constantly boring into my back. My worst fear is that I will be caught, that I will die, and that I will never be able to see my family again. If I fail, everything is over.  _

_ Grief is the worst thing that has ever existed. I should be desensitized by now, after watching my friends die countless times, but somehow, this is just as painful as it always was. It is as though someone has ripped a hole in me, a physical hole. There’s nothing that will make it better. Ever. I should feel lucky; I get to see my crewmates after a year, every year, healthy and alive. But I don’t. I miss them so much it hurts. I keep trying to talk to them, but every time the hole just becomes greater and greater and greater. Bring them back. I’m not even sure who I’m pleading to. The Raven Queen, maybe. Istus, maybe. Any God, and possible source of anything, please bring them back to me. _

_ I will give anything. I just want to see them again. It scares me so much that they just… cease to exist for the moment. I’ve died before, yet I’m not even sure what it consists of. It terrifies me. I want to touch my family again. I want to hear their voices, not just in my memory, but in real life. I don’t want them to just be a mere memory, I want them to be alive. I don’t want to think fondly of them, of their souls, I want them back. _

_ I feel as though their absence is tearing my very being apart. _

_ Sadness, as a feeling, is the most frustrating, horrible, emotion that there is. Sadness, in its pure form, is the most painful torture that anyone faces in their lifetime. _

 

* * *

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,882 _

_ Year 65, day 8 _

_ No matter how painful, I’m going to try to keep talking to them. _

 

_ Merle, dearest Merle Highchurch, _

_ I could really use your spirit at the moment. I’m having a hard time eating and sleeping and getting up. You’d hate that so much. I’m still surprised, even after all these years, that you’ve never had children. Your soul -your spirit- is so nurturing and paternal. Now, it may simply be the cleric in you, but I’d like to think that you’re the father of the group.  _

_ I miss your calloused hands, always an oxymoron of themself: tough yet gentle. Those words, I believe, encompass your entire personality. You’ve always been gruff, quick to criticise those around you, but never seriously. I admire you, Merle. You always persevere no matter what. You always say this: “Choose happiness”. I could really work to achieve this, couldn’t I?  _

_ Choose happiness. You have no trouble with this. Your mission in this world, if all of us were placed into our bodies with a mission, is to cure those around you. You truly are a holy man.  _

_ I love you and I miss you. _

_ I wish you’d come back and cure this pesky concussion. _

 

* * *

 

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,883 _

_ Year 65, day 8 _

 

_ I have to keep writing _

 

_ Dear Magnus, _

_ Your favorite, super comfortable sofa chair is disturbingly empty. Sometimes I hold your battleaxe just to touch something that you once held. Your hands were so warm. Every spot you stood in seemed to leave a lingering warmth. Your bellowing voice, your laugh, it was all warm.  _

_ You were never one for totally understanding why someone was in emotional distress, but you always knew how to care for them. I wish you were here to hold me, to hug me until the tears went away. You would be telling me that it’s okay to cry. You knew I hate crying, but you didn’t care. You would tell me that it’s healthy.  _

_ I love you so much. _

_ This planet is so barren. You would hate it here, just as you predicted when we first entered this plane. There are no animals, not even small ones. It’s just jagged rocks and dust and a gray sky and nothing. The natural beauty and colors that you always loved to rave over are gone.  _

_ The ship is horribly quiet without you. I know that if you were here, my concussion would have gotten, oh, so much worse, but at least you would be here. At least you would still be alive. _

_ Come back please. _

 

* * *

 

 

_ Journal Entry: 5,884 _

_ Year 65, day 8 _

 

_ Davenport, _

_ Captain, I don’t know what to do. I’ve gone 64 years with a leader, with a sense of stability to keep me going. I always had tasks given to me, I always had someone telling me what to do. Now you’re gone and I’m so lost. I have to learn how to be the leader of myself. _

_ If, somehow, you’re out there, please help me. Send me a sign. Are you there? _

Lucretia looked up, her pen falling from the loose grip of her hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping of her chin and spilling onto her skirt. Her head tilted backwards so that her wide eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling, but more abstractly, up forever. Her voice croaked out, shakily, unsure, “Are you there?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for The Adventure Zone and my first fic since I was about fourteen years old so... I guess we'll see how this goes.


End file.
